


Three Steps Ahead

by Pixelated_Optimism



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:52:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelated_Optimism/pseuds/Pixelated_Optimism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She would always stay behind, far even from his shadow, because this was what everything was from the very beginning, and it would remain to do so until the very end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Steps Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> posted this at ff. net and yeah, kinda handled it off but i'm going to continue it so please give me a cookie <3

She had braced herself for the worse.

Stupidly, utterly, hopelessly she had clung on to that little belief that somehow things would have shifted for them for the last two years and finally he could have noticed all those times she had devoted herself cheering for him, all the bentos she woke up early to prepare for him, the days she had cruelly sacrificed to learn the sport he was so obsessed, so immersed with . . .that somehow this aloof boy had allotted even a shrug to look at her existence.

And unfortunately, their connection hasn't budged in the slightest.

In fact, she felt the opposite.

He seemed to be inching away and away every step she took.

It was never a steady friendship anyway, with him going out in the world proving himself and everything. She understood of course, he was Echizen Ryoma, someone bound for greatness, someone who has the right to go out there and stay on top, someone who was to never stay behind just because a certain nobody wishes him to do so.

He would always be ahead of her, three steps.

She would always stay behind, far even from his shadow, because this was what everything was from the very beginning and it would remain to do so until the very end.

It was his fault, really, making her read signs the wrong way. She thought it was nice for him to save her from bullies on their first meeting, and that enough gave her the courage to make him a bento, a bento! And even throw away rationality and give him her ribbon when he got his eye bleeding like hell, heck, she even gulped the shame when Tomo-chan insisted they wear those skimpy, stupid cheering clothes on! She ran like hell when he was about to leave for the US Open, and cheered like tomorrow never existed for the Nationals . . .

All, she bitterly thought, exchanged with nothing.

Because Ryoma-kun would always be Ryoma-kun, despite the fact that looking into him now she realized how easily he decided to throw his childishness and marched forward to maturity, that he got a little taller and Eiji-senpai's ochibi could be a small joke, and those hazel cat-eyes of his acquired a more straightforward (as far as straightforward Ryoma-kun's eyes could go) and sharp distinctness and his greenish black hair certainly have grown long and tousled tastefully under that far-famed cap of his, and he now prefers a leather jacket over his jersey Ryoma-kun would still be Ryoma-kun.

Three steps ahead.

This silent Prince could be number one in the world, as what she beamed at him upon his flight for New York.

And Sakuno would still be Coach Ryuuzaki's little, silent granddaughter.

A nobody.

She stopped walking and looked at his back.

And he continued walking away, barely noticing her halting.

This ignorance of her existence, this tiring game of reminding him that she was there, this infinite, irreparable flux of chase, finally wore her out.

Looking at the bento innocently sitting on her arms she heaved a sigh.

Ryoma-kun, that baka!

"What's happened to you?"

She had to jump. Ryoma was lazily walking back; sighing like all of this was a tiring marathon. She looked down on her toes and fought the urge to retort.

"Ryuuzaki" he mutinously complained on his unfriendly drawling monotone. Keeping herself calm was no easy task. Now she even doubted if he really knew her name or it was just a lazy reference to the fact that she was related to his Coach.

And somehow she knew the latter part was the answer.

Sinking down to her own depths of despair she breathed and looked away.

"I'm tired" she mumbled. He raised a brow.

"Are you complai-"

Snapping out of her calm demeanor she angrily shook her head.

"No I'm not" she stiffly said. He seemed taken aback by what she said because he fell silent (now that she thought of it wasn't he always infuriatingly silent all the time?)

"Weirdo" he breathed, adjusting his cap and thumbing his tennis bag like he never really cared . . .

Never.

She felt the taught strings of her patience snap into two.

"I guess you can go ahead of me, Ryoma-kun" she said, trying to mimic her usual sugar coated sentences "I don't want to be a bother"

And he certainly thought she is because he looked a little relieved walking alone. Grunting his goodbye he continued walking, not even looking back or giving her a nip or two about getting home safely and stuff.

And she wanted to curse herself for even anticipating, hoping that he would shake his head and make her grandmother's order as an excuse to walk with her.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a dramatic lunatic, i know . . .


End file.
